It was mainly due to the Headmistress' excellent organisation that the entire plan ran smoothly. Hermione watched Jonathon furtively for any sign of recognition as he stepped into the hallway of number twelve Grimmauld Place. However if he did identify anything he didn't show it but continued to study the grim hallway with something bordering on disgust. The wallpaper was still peeling, the threadbare carpet still adorned the gloomy hallway and the chandelier overhead was still riddled with cobwebs.
Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him to the far end of the hallway where a sliver of light escaped from a closed door. Taking a deep breath he opened the door confidently and they were bathed in a green-bluish light that only served to enhance the mysterious and eerie atmosphere. The only source of light in the whole kitchen was a pensieve situated in the middle of a long wooden table. Hermione thought that Lupin's, McGonagall's, Ron's and Snape's faces looked ghoulish and gaunt basked in the peculiar light. She spotted more people standing upright like soldiers around the perimeter of the cavernous room but the remained there, like defeated pieces of a chessboard.
Snape was eyeing Jonathon suspiciously as if he was convinced he was about to be told the whole ordeal was a joke. Ron tried to give an encouraging smile but failed and stepped back from the table into the shadows of the room. McGonagall asked Jonathon to sit upon the table next to the pensieve. Extracting her wand she held it to Jonathon's head and Hermione saw the familiar silver thread of memories flow from Jonathon into the wand until the wand was repositioned and they streamed into the pensieve itself. She studied Jonathon's movements and saw him clench his fists once or twice and he kept his eyes shut for the whole procedure.
"The extraction is complete." McGonagall's voice sent a shudder through Hermione, it was so completely devoid of emotion and Hermione was reminded just how important this was. She moved slightly so that she was standing right behind McGonagall and when Jonathon opened his eyes he was staring straight at her. He appeared to be exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes and his bottom lip was reddened from where he had bit it.
Fear , apprehension and concern tore at her heart and she could barely muster the strength to watch as Snape moved him so that he was sat on a chair adjacent to the table. Snape continued to fuss around Jonathon but she couldn't see what he was doing as his back blocked her view. He never made any attempt to put a stop to it, he never even spoke.
When Snape took a step back Hermione saw that he had placed what appeared to be a rectangular plaster on Jonathon's forehead. He then withdrew a small vial of luminescent potion from inside his robes and poured it in a tortuously slow manner into the pensieve. Jonathon took a great shuddering breath of trepidation and then gawped in amazement as the contents of the pensieve began to swirl ferociously around nearly brimming over the edge.
As if attached to an imaginary line the silvery fluid reared up and shot to Jonathon's forehead and Hermione realised the plaster was to concentrate the magic in a specific location. Jonathon squeezed his eyes shut and she wondered whether it was due to pain or fear however almost instantly after she thought this he let out a roar of agony and nearly bolted forward out of the chair. Snape caught him just in time and held him in place as his body convulsed horribly in front of their eyes.
Hermione knew from gazing at him that he was in excruciating pain and was unaware who or what was around him. McGonagall was frowning and examining the pensieve as well as Jonathon's forehead. Ron had rushed to his side to try and hold him in place so that the procedure would not be in vain. After another minute or so Remus also hurried out of the shadows and grasped both of Jonathon's arms while Ron held his head in place. It was Hermione's turn to leap to his side next when she noticed a trickle of blood make its way from his nose and drip onto his shirt.
"Stop!" she screamed but just as the words left her mouth his form became motionless and he slumped forwards into Lupin's arms.
The chaos that had overtaken the room moments ago was brought to an abrupt halt and there was a deathly silence encompassing them all.
"Somebody turn on the bloody light," she implored angrily and immediately the gas lamps lining the walls burst into life. Grabbing both sides of his face she scrutinized him. Crimson blood still seeped from his nose and his eyes remained closed, he was definitely unconscious. She leant his head backwards so that he was sat in the chair like a rag doll, his head lolling over the back of the chair.
"Is he breathing?" Ron asked petrified. She placed two fingers against his throat and felt a pulse, it was weak but it was there.
"Yes," she breathed. "He's still alive."
With help from Ron and Snape, Lupin manoeuvred him so that he was lying on the table. Someone pushed swiftly past Hermione and she caught side of a harassed Madam Pomfrey skilfully analyzing Harry's condition.
"We must move him to a bed," she demanded. "He's dreadfully weak. He may not even..." She was interrupted by a groan of anguish and everyone's eyes shot to Harry's body.
Although he kept his eyes shut his face was distorted with pain and he suddenly rolled onto his side and retched insufferably. Vomit splattered onto the stone flagged floor and drifting in between the myriad of stones reached their unmoving feet as each stood frozen in fear.
His arms flailed about hopelessly like a child in desperate need of help. He tried to shield his eyes from the stark brightness of the overhead lights by covering his head with his hands and shuffled to the side of the table. When he attempted roll off the table and land on his feet he misinterpreted his strength and his knees buckled underneath his weight.
He heaved again, now on all fours and his eyes darted around perplexed and terrified. She leapt over to him, as did Ron and they both hauled him to his feet. He was leaning heavily on them unable to stay upright alone, his eyes still trying to blink away what seemed to be six years of sleep. He began to mumble incoherently and Hermione and Ron looked at each other frantically.
"Don't try to speak Harry," Madam Pomfrey ordered springing to life. "Please Headmistress, we must..."
"What...What's going on? Where is He? V...Voldemort?" He made to escape from his friends clutches but failed. They wrestled him back to the table so that he could prop himself up. "Where am I? Arrgh!!" he screamed and clasped his head in his hands in pain. "Please...I don't understand," he cried hysterically.
"What can you remember Harry?" McGonagall asked plainly.
"Please Headmistress, he is in no condition to..." Madam Pomfrey pleaded but faltered under McGonagall's glare.
"No...I can't...Bellatrix she..." he shook his head and stumbled slightly into the table, one hand still firmly clutching his head. The memories were flooding his mind, each piece of his past clouding his vision and continually integrating into the tale of his life. "I don't understand...it couldn't be! I don't...this couldn't, please no god no," he moaned into the palm of his hand.
"Harry I need you to take a deep breath, you're being frantic and inarticulate," said the calm Headmistress.
"Well of course he bloody is!" Hermione yelled sending everyone into silence. However it was only brief.
"Would somebody please explain..."Harry entreated while trying to get his breathing under control, taking great gasps in his effort to do so. Blood has stopped streaming from his nose, but his shirt was covered in vomit, his face entirely drained of colour and he was shivering uncontrollably.
Lupin moved forwards and placed one hand on his shoulder and another at his cheek, looking directly into Harry's face beseechingly. "I want you to remember that night Harry, with Bellatrix..."
"I do...but it can't...I'm not..."Harry bellowed and none of them could understand the confusion he was experiencing.
"She hit you with a memory charm, Harry. You lost your memory," Lupin explained slowly. Harry tried to say something but his mouth merely opened and closed producing no sound. Astonishment crept across his features and realisation flashed across his eyes. He snatched fistfuls of Lupin coat angrily.
"No, you didn't," he whispered disbelievingly. "You didn't help me...you just left me. No...no," he repeated as realisation of what had happened dawned on him. Using his firm grasp on Lupin's coat he drew him closer, searching Lupin's eyes for any sign that this was all a sick joke. "No, it can't...you never would...how could you?!" he howled pleadingly.
Lupin frowned and tears clouded his vision "We thought we were saving you."
Harry shook his head violently. "You actually did it didn't you?! You actually left me out there, without my...my memories," he spluttered overwhelmed with realization. He let his grasp on Lupin go and shoved him away fiercely. "How could you?!" he demanded sadistically, his head still swimming but his spinning world was beginning to grind to a halt.
After being so forcefully pushed away Lupin could do nothing but shake his head in both guilt and shame. James had asked him to protect his son, Sirius had handed him the burden and gift of being a godfather and he had failed them both. He blinked away the few tears that clung to his eyes and watched as the young man in front of him broke down.
Harry's bloodshot eyes sought out Ron who just remained speechless. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with this!" he begged of his red-haired friend.
"I...we thought what we were doing was right," Ron replied quietly. His grimaced at how futile and pathetic it sounded but knew it was nevertheless the truth.
"YOU WERE MY BEST FRIEND!" Harry roared in response. "BEYOND WHAT WAS RIGHT, BEYOND ANYTHING! YOU STICK BY THAT REGARDLESS." His hands were balled into fists, his face red with the effort of screaming and they wondered at his ability to remain standing. "DIDN'T THE LAST SIX YEARS MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU? ALL THOSE ADVENTURES, ALL THE TROUBLES WE WENT THROUGH, AFTER EVERYTHING WE SURVIVED AND THEN YOU JUST LET ALL THAT GO!"
Ron blushed crimson and was just about to retort fiercely when McGonagall interrupted, ever the voice of reason. "Mr. Weasley please do not exacerbate the situation. We must give Mr. Potter some time to digest everything and perhaps then we'll make some progress." Hermione marvelled at her ability to remain impartial, reasonable and detached. She noticed Harry edge back towards the table for stability, shaking his head in disbelief of McGonagall's aloofness.
His eyes however drifted past her face as he turned to place his two hands flat down on the table surface. He froze momentarily in that position, leaning over his spread out hands, his back to them and breathing heavily. Gradually his back straightened and he revolved around slowly to stare at her sceptically. "Please, Hermione, not you too," he sighed, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.
She wanted to scream and shriek every single excuse and reason she had for making that decision six years ago, she wanted to fight him every step of the way and force him to understand. But she couldn't. She must remain impartial when he was in this fragile state of mind. McGonagall was right, it would do no good to impact on his thought processes now, not when they were warped as they were now. So she bit her lower lip to keep from saying anything but had the nerve to look him straight in the eye so he had his answer.
He clenched his teeth and shook his head angrily. "No," he growled. "No, no, no," he cried turning his back to them again and slamming the palms of his hands onto the table repeatedly. "Wake up! Wake up, Harry!" he yelled to himself and began slamming his head with hands.
"It's not a nightmare, Harry," Hermione informed him. "This is happening now, and you have to deal with it. We will...," she faltered remembering Snape's words from earlier that day. Would he ever trust them again? "We'll be there. If you need us, then we will be there."
"YOU HERMIONE! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE, WHY YOU?!" he bellowed. He wavered slightly on his feet as he staggered away from the table. He managed to glance at her fleetingly before insisting that they leave immediately. Most of the occupants in the room fled as soon as they got that chance. Madame Pomfrey wished to check him over again and he allowed her to grudgingly declare him able to stay on his own but not before marvelling over his recovery.
All that remained now was Hermione and McGonagall. Hermione found it difficult to keep her eyes off of the sight of her best friend falling apart. He now sat on a chair, his slender hands holding his head, rubbing his temples every now and then, trying to get rid of his throbbing headache. Part of him was still just waiting to wake up.
"If you ne..." she started to say.
"Just get out. I don't want you here so leave now," he commanded but quietly, seemingly unable to roar now due to sheer exhaustion.
He lifted his head, wiping tears from his cheeks as he went and decided he needed something strong to calm his nerves. He bellowed out Dobby's name but stopped half-way through the second shout realising his mistake. "He's dead...I forgot that....he's dead," he laughed bitterly to himself.
"Your brain is still trying to piece together everything that has happened. Give it time, Harry," McGonagall advised.
"We're going to leave you in peace," she finished seeing him attempt to speak again. She gave Hermione a pointed look and with one last glance at the man sobbing softly in the deserted kitchen they flooed back to Hogwarts.